மை சன்

"ஒவ்வொரு தடவையும் வோட்டு போடும்போதும் இந்த தடவையாவது நமக்கு நல்லது நடக்கும் நு மக்கள் நினைக்கிறாங்க". முதல்வனில் சுஜாதாவின் இந்த கூர்மையான வசனங்கள் மிக உண்மையானவை. ஒவ்வொரு தேர்தலின்போதும் நாம் நம்பிக்கையோடு விரலில் மை வைத்து கொள்கிறோம். ஆனால் ஐந்து வருடங்கள் முடிந்து மூஞ்சியில் கரி தான் பூச படுகிறது. கிட்ட தட்ட சலிப்பும் ஏமாற்றமும் மிச்சம் உள்ள தேர்தலில் களத்தில் "எவன் நின்றால் என்ன" நு சலிச்சுகிறது நியாயம் தான்.

இப்பொழுது இருக்கும் கலைஞர் ஆட்சியிலும் இதே கதி தான். மத்த ஆட்சியில மட்டும் என்ன வாழுந்துதாம்ன்னு நீங்க நினைக்கிறது புரியுது. "இதோ நான் ரிடையர் ஆக போறேன்"நு ஒரு அறிக்கையிலும் , "நான் அப்பிடி சொல்லவே இல்ல" நு இன்னொரு அறிக்கையிலும் மெகா சீரியல் மாமியார் போல்

மக்களை குழப்புகிறார். சரி ஆட்சியில் தான் அடுத்தது யாருன்னு குழப்பம்நா இவரு குடும்ப ஆட்களும் அவர்களின் சண்டையும் தமிழ் மெகா சீரியலில் வரும் சதிகளையும் குள்ளனரித்தனங்களை விடவும் அதிகமானவை.

அவன் அவன் ஒரு குடும்பத்துல இருக்குற வம்பயே சமாளிக்க முடியல, ஆனா இவரு திறமையா ரெண்டு போண்டாடிகளையும்(ஆபீசியல் நம்பர்) அவரகளுடைய வாரிசுகளையும் சமாளிக்கிறார். தன்னுடைய பேச்சாற்றலாலும், வசன பானங்களையும் தொடுத்து கிட்டத்தட்ட அரை நுற்றாண்டு நிறைய சம்பாதித்துவிட்டார்.....நான் மக்கள் நம்பிக்கைய சொன்னேங்க....நீங்க எதுவும் தப்ப நினைகல்லயே? இத்தனை ஆட்சி மற்றும் குடும்ப பிரச்சனைக்கும் இடையில் இவர் "கலைஞரின் இளைஞன்" மாதிரி வெற்றிகரமான(?) படங்களுக்கு வேற வசனம் எழுதி தரதை பார்க்கும்போது "இந்த ரணகளதுளையும் உனக்கு கிளுகிளுப்பு கேக்குதா" நு நினைக்காம இருக்க முடியல.

குடும்ப சொத்து வெளில போக கூடாதுன்னு அடுத்த வாரிசுகளுக்கு தயா"நிதி", அருள்"நிதி", உதய"நிதி" நு வெச்சுட்டாரு போல. இனிமேல் வரவங்களுக்கு அநேகமா கட்சி"நிதி", தேர்தல்"நிதி" நு பேரு வெச்சாலும் ஆச்சர்ய படறதுக்கு ஒன்னும் இல்ல. தமிழனின் பலவினமான ஆசையானது இலவசம். இருபது ரூபா சோப்பு வாங்கினாலே ரெண்டு ரூபா சீப்பு எதிர்பார்க்கிற நமள்ள சரியாய் புரிஞ்சு போன தேர்தலில் வெச்சாரு ஒரு செக். அதுதான் இலவச டிவி. ஆனா அதே டி வீ ல ராஜாவின் ராசலீலைகள் சென்றடைந்தது சொந்த செலவில் சூன்னியம் வெச்சுகிட்ட மாதிரி ஆச்சு.

அநேகமா இந்த தேர்தலில் இலவசமா IPAD 2 தருவாங்கன்னு உடன்பிறப்புகள் நாக்கை தொங்க போட்டு இருக்கிறார்கள். ஒரு இடை தேர்தலில் இவர் கட்சியினர் அறிமுகபடுத்திய "வோட்டு போட்டா காசு" திட்டம் பட்டையை கிளப்பியது. அட என்னங்க ...பின்ன என்னிக்கி நம்ம ஊருல 80% சதவிதம் வாக்கு பதிவாச்சு சொல்லுங்க? தமிழ்நாட்டில் தேர்தல் நடத்தறது பீகாரை விட கஷ்டம்நு தேர்தல் கமிஷன் வட்டாரங்கள் சொல்லுது. அநேகமா நாசிகில அச்சாகிற பணம் பூரா நம்ம ஊருல தான் செலவாக போகுதுன்னு நினைகிறேன்.

அநேகமாக நரிக்குறவர்கள் தவிர எல்லாரையும் உசுபேத்தி ஒரு பாராட்டு விழா எடுக்க விட்டார்கள். அதிலும் சன் டிவியில் இவர் அறிக்கையை இப்பொழுது படிக்கும்போதும் "மச்சான் இந்த வாட்டி நான் ஜெயச்சா என்ன பண்ணுவேன்...கேளேன்...மச்சான் நீ கேளேன்...மாப்பிளை நீயாவது கேளேன்" நு கெஞ்சற மாதிரி தான் இருக்கு.

இந்த பண பலத்தையும், ஆசை வார்த்தைகளையும் மீறி 2001 போல் இந்த தேர்தலிலும் தமிழகம் ஆச்சர்ய படவைக்குமா? அக்னி நட்சத்திரத்துக்கு பிறகு தெரியும் சூடு யாருக்கு விழ போகிறது என்று.

பெயர்: கலைஞர்

வயது: அசைபோடும் வயது

பிரச்சனை: ஆசைபடும் மனது

பலம்: பேச்சாற்றல்

பலவீனம்: மெகா சீரியல் குடும்பம்

பிடித்த கதை: பராசக்தி

பிடிக்காத கதை: ஒரு ஊருல ஒரு "ராஜா" இருந்தானாம்.....

Portrait: Kannanrajiv

I Hate Luv Storys

"How long do you think?" asked the bearded man.

"Must be another 30 minutes" replied the man with the scar honking with disgust. He got irritated when someone pestered him with questions. At the age of 12, in a fit of rage, he had broken his teacher's head and ran away scared of police. The same anger earns him his bread with regular dadagiri and occasional murder.

"Bhaiyya. Stop for tea. I am feeling sleepy." the new recruit chottu just added salt on the scarred man's wounds.

They stopped outside an old dilapidated tea shop where Sardar drivers and their puny assistants drank tea and ate Parle G cracking vulgar jokes and laughing loudly. Chottu grabbed 3 biscuit packets and ordered 3 masala tea.

"So what is the number?" asked chottu.

"What number?" replied the irritated scarred man.

"You know. Like 'Ab tak chappan', do you keep count of the number people you tanked off?"

The scarred man had never given it a thought. The only thing he remembered clearly was his first cold blooded murder. That was thrilling experience. But the later ones were more mechanical and he just went through the motions. He probably got used to it.

He made a mental note to keep a score of his victims henceforth. Maybe like the Count of Monte Christo.

"Are you sure that our targets would be there as expected?"

"Yep. The source is quite reliable. They stay in a small apartment in the next city." replied the bearded man.

"What do you think they might be doing now?" winked chottu mischievously.

She lay her head on his hairy chest playfully wriggling them. He looked over the ceiling and saw the fan which was loud enough to hide the sound of their love making. He was not sure if he should be relieved or troubled about it. They were still getting used to each other physically although they could read each other's train of thoughts at that moment.

"Do you think we made a mistake?" she asked.

Like most women, she felt guilty and doubted her actions after an act. Like most men, he remained silent and neutral. The only thing he had learnt from his parents' marital life was to stay silent when in doubt. He knew that they were past the 'mistake' borderline.

"I dont think it makes any difference to our parents." He said bitterly.

He was angry with his parents and hers' as well. They had treated them like a piece of dirt and he knew that they deserved better.

"My papa would understand and forgive us." she tried consoling herself rather than answering him.

"Yeah. And Hitler had siesta with Jews. How long are you going to fool yourself?"

"How long can they hate us? I am their daughter and they love me."

"Do you even realize that they were going to get you married to someone you never knew just for the sake of society and pride?"

"Almost every second parent does that in our country. Your parents were not an exception as well."

"Well, mine were the second parents in this case."

They smiled weakly at this remark. He ran his fingers and adjusted her hair behind her ear. They knew that the first few months were going to be very tough emotionally and financially.

"You should have been living in a castle like a queen. Look at you now." He felt guilty.

"You dont understand. Its not a castle that makes a women a queen."

"Then what makes a women feel.....queenly?"

"Its....." she moved near him slowly and kissed him gently on his lips. "The King".

"That’s so corny" smiled Chottu seated on back of the car referring to a lyrics of a love song played on the radio.

The bearded man got irritated and lowered the volume. He sat upright as if he was going to deliver a sermon.

"Remember. As much as possible dont use the gun. It has to be used only if you find them out of your reach. Use your knife."

"But knife is so crude. And why should we use a knife when we have a gun?" asked Chottu still itching from using the gun in his hand.

"Because a knife is silent. Also, knife causes more pain. I want to see them shiver with pain and fear before they die." The beaded man mentally pictured killing them with his bare hands.

"I can understand your anger for the boy. But we can abduct the girl right? After all she is your relative."

"Dont even talk about that bitch. She ditched our family for that useless bastard. It will serve as a lesson for all the girls in the family. Also a reminder for the boys to stay away from our girls."He winked as if he had just shared the joke of the year.

Chottu made a mental note to check if any girl he loved or pretended to love had such crackpot relatives.

The man with the scar smiled to himself. After all this, people still called him savage for his grizzly appearance and behaviour.

These bastards were killing their own daughters and sons in the name of honor. Ironically, man had invented all possible gadgets and covered himself with fashionable attire, but still the age-old animal instinct to kill and relish was left untouched inside.

"Dont you think that the police will trace you? After all, your family will now be the direct accomplice in this case." asked Chottu as if he had just passed Bar exam in Loyola.

"Hmm. How many cases in India do you think get delivered hailing truth and justice? In most cases the accused and accuser die out of depression and old age. And the rich in jails are supplied everything including carnal pleasure. The police might be hot on trail for one week. The news channels will run it for 2 weeks. By third week, the public will be looking at some other hot murder like this or forget it in midst of an Indian team's victory over Bangladesh. So you can jump with joy and say "Fuck the justice system.""

"Hmmm. Sounds logical to me. Hey, what is that?"

"Thats salt. If I am not wrong, you add sugar when you make tea. Maybe your dad adds salt in his tea."

He made no secret of his hatred for her dad. Her dad had sent some gundas and got him roughed up in a hospital for only talking to his beloved daughter. And that is when he also started to fish out for grooms outside the city who did not know about his daughter's love affairs. And even if they did, the heavy dowry, Jewels and Maruti Swift car should make him forget it.

"You have never laid your foot in your kitchen, have you?"

"Except when I wanted fresh and hot parathas."

She missed her mom and her parathas. Her mom would miss her too. Atleast she thought she would. How many women even had a say in such a savage society?

He came and hugged her from behind. He knew that she missed her parents and he wanted to make her forget the pain. Forget the anxiety. Time as they say is the best healer.

"Hey, what’s the name of the theatre near our house?" he asked trying to change the mood.

"Alankar" said chotu.

"There it is." said the man with the beard. It was dilapidated theatre with possibly 10, 20 Rs tickets and where old hindi movies with sleazy titles used to run.

"Did you see the name of the movie running there?"

"No. Do you think we are here to watch some stupid yuppie flick?"

"Well. Ironically, it is called I hate Love stories."

He winked and laughed uncontrollably. The bearded man gave him a beastly look which promptly shut him up. They parked their jeep outside the shop next to the theatre and walked towards their "spot".

"So, are we all clear as to what we need to do?"

"Well. I hope to get that accountant's job for which I interviewed yesterday. The Manager seemed quite happy."

"Yeah. Lets hope we move out of this dungeon soon."

"Then we will enrol you in some college here."

"Why? You don’t want me to work?"

"No. Your mom wanted you to have Master's degree. Atleast someday when we show up at their door with a Master's degree and a kid, it should make them happy."

"You know, even after all this shit, you want to make them happy?" she asked quite relieved.

"Well. I hope someday we all live in peace. After all, everybody's life is short. And why make it shorter with anger, grudge and hatred."

"You know, I think of this and this song comes to my mind. Tum Bhi Chalo Hum bhi chalen"

They start singing together

"Chalti rahe zindagi.

Naa Zameen Manzil Aasmaan....

Zindagi hai...

Zindagi..."

They smile and embrace each other.

They hear someone knock on the door.

She walks to the front door and opens it.

Goodbye Thanksgiving!

“Stop!” he yelled.

She sped out of their room, unmindful.

“You are dead, my lady!” He screamed, sounding venomous.

“Why do you think I got a house on this haunted hill 50 miles from the city?”

His words hardly reached her, when a shovel plowed into her head and painfully split her skull into two.

Dead.

It was thanksgiving for the entire neighborhood. But he had no smoked turkey, just a dead wife.

His eyes fell on her wedding ring. That’s when he noticed her open palm holding on to a call dialed to 911.

The police siren grew nearer.

-By Harish & Preethi

P.S: Thanks to Priya for introducing us to Magpie.

Inheritance of loss

"I am sorry for your loss." said the visitor. I did not know who he was, but then given the circumstances, I was neither concerned nor interested in knowing his whereabouts.

I saw him walk to the hall with a rose garland. She didn't like roses much, but anyway it did not matter now. He lay it on the glass casing enclosing her body and offered his condolences to my wife. My wife who was seated below the casing had probably dried out crying ever since the whole incident had come to light.

She had reasoned with god, then pleaded with him, fought with him, cursed him and just as every other human being, she just relegated to rejection. Our entire system of faith hinges on a tiny thread of hope and this very gruesome incident not just shook our's but also many of our relatives and well wishers hopes as well.

You could call me a creep for saying this, but I noticed failingly, that inspite of all the grief in the eyes of the people who came to offer condolences, I could spot a tiny fragment of relief. A relief that this did not happen to their son or daughter. You can sympathize with me, but its human nature to just feel safe telling yourself "Thank god, it was not me or my family.". No offence meant, but thats the truth. A bitter one, but still true enough.

I had not cried for the past 2 days. When the search was on initially, I did cry. I was furious. But then as the man of the house, I had to show resilience. Not that it was going to bring back my lovely daughter back. But just enough that it does not bereave me of my only left possession- my wife. Poor soul. Till that very fateful moment the news broke out, she had been one charming woman whose smile could wipe away all your fears. This just wiped everything out. Everything.

I felt pretty sick in my stomach. Laboriously, I traced my steps to the bedroom on the first floor. The room had not been visited in these past 2 days. Every morning, I used to come here to wake my little angel. I loved watching her sleep. She seemed so blissful and happy even in her sleeping posture.

Till she came into my life, I had not known that you could love someone even when they were in deep sleep unaware of your presence. The giant Pooh doll that she hugged every night lay orphaned in one corner of the bed with its arms outstretched as if waiting for her embrace. The room was filled with her photos right from her day 1 on earth till the annual sports day that happened about 2 weeks before....it ended.

My gaze fixed on a collage that we prepared for her first birthday. It consisted of her journey right from her mother's bump, till her last birthday. My god! How she had grown in front of my own eyes and I never realized it. For every parent, their wards remain children even after graying out. Her little brown eyes looked deep into me and peeking into my soul asked me "Where were you when I needed you." I felt impotent. Bloody impotent.

I still imagine how surreal it was when I held her for the first time in my hands. She was wrapped in a white cloth and looked peaceful in deep sleep. Her fist was the size of my thumb and yet it seemed as if she led me around rather than the other way around. It was for the first time, I had experienced tears of joy. I did not want her to taste my salty tears and wiped them off the corner of shirt. Little did I know that 11 years later, I would find her body immersed in salty pond water.

Having a baby was a cause for celebration. We had celebrations for her first step, her first illegible "amma", her first day at school etc. We were proud of her in every other way. Not only was she a well behaved girl, but also well read. Her teachers openly envied us at the parents teachers meeting and she would just blush when they heaped encomiums on her. Her happiness was to celebrated with scoopfuls of strawberry ice creams and her sadness was divided with hugs, promises and lullabies. Now there was no one to hug. No one to sing a lullaby. Nothing to promise.

She could have had an excellent academic career. Who knows, she might have been the next Nooyi or Sudha Murthy. She would have made a lovely caring wife and mother. Everything was doomed. Everything was destroyed. There was nothing worth living.

I read about her killer's 'encounter' incident (one policeman shot that bastard while on way to court). Curiously, people ask me if I am relieved or happy. I dont know, but its mixed emotions. I know her death has been avenged, but will it bring my lovely daughter back? Some human rights activists claim that the encounter was brutal and uncalled for. Who the fuck gives them authority to judge right and wrong?

Atleast someone had compassion. Someone had a sense of justice. Maybe the policeman had a daughter and he felt our pain. I am not trying to say "an eye for an eye" is right, but where is justice today? An accomplice to the murder of the former Prime Minister of this country is languishing in jail still. An attacker whose antics were seen by the whole world on tape for 3 days in Mumbai is making mockery of the whole judicial system. Why should I believe that my daughter's loss would be rightfully and legally settled?

Feeling angry, I just turned my head around and found a CD we had recorded during a session where the parents were invited to the school. All students were invited to give a talk on their future ambitions. As her turn came, she walked gracefully to the stage and I recorded her every movement to the podium. She talked about her dream of working at ISRO. For some reason, she was obsessed with Space research and stars and quite ironically she ended up being one.

Her teacher asked "So, do you harbor any dreams to go to the space? Or say the moon?"

She looked at the camera. For one faint instant, I felt that she was looking at me for an answer. Her deep brown eyes now seemed to have broken the barrier of TV and seemed to question my soul.

As I watched it now at this wretched moment, I remembered her answer. I got a lump in my throat. All the emotions that I had held for the last 2 days poured from my eyes and I was sobbing uncontrollably like a child.

In midst of my wails and tears, she answered

"No Madam. I don’t want to leave my parents and go very far."

Nothing that Rajni Kant

Q. What do you call a magnetic force that attracts everyone and everybody from wheel-chair bound old men to kids who can barely say "mummy"?

A. Rajnikanth

The man with magnetism in his name and eyes does it and how? If you thought that the Sivaji canvas was huge for a Rajni film, Enthiran multiplies it by 100 and delivers staggering results. Like Cameron baby-sat his pet project Avatar, Shankar did the same with this project. It changed hands from Kamal Hassan to Ajit (seriously?) to SRK and finally to Mr. Magnet. If SRK thought this was a half-baked script, you are tempted to ask him if he dozed off during the narration of Rab Ne bana di jodi or My Name is Khan.


So lets start with the story. Oh Cmon! Who am I kidding? Do you really give a rats ass about a story in a Rajni film? But for freshness sake, this film does have a solid reason and delivers well (Thanks to Late great Sujatha). As a norm in Shankar's film, the hero is shown normally without any intro song or fanfare. (But there are some useless souls in Kolywood who would not abolish it even after Siva kicked it left right and center in Tamil Padam.)

The special effects are wonderfully done and it shows where Mr. Maaran's money went. We know that Sun Network has this dubious standard of praising its own movies on their channels. I mean, come on, Thillalangadi at No 1 for so long? The film is possibly "running succesfully" in your nearby VCD shop. But you have to say that their promotional antics for Enthiran has paid wonderful results. When Ms Rai kissed Mr Rajni on screen, one guy from the back shouted "Rajni Khabardaar!!" and the whole theatre erupted in laughter.

Even though the initial robot design reminded me of IRobot, the rest of the film and its reasoning reminds you that it has an Indian heart and mind. Some of the dialgoues in the film remind you of typical Sujatha touches and evoked claps from the audience. For a reasonably good actor, Danny Denzongpa was wasted. He makes his exit like some useless extra, but then with Robot2.0 around, you don't care.

Ms. Ash looks gorgeous for sure. But why did I get the feeling that towards the climax she looked more like an accomplice-in-two-minds rather than the typical damsel-in-distress? To be fair to Mr ARR, the songs looked good on screen but you don't remember them much later. Of course, Shankar's imagination and Ratnavelu's camera do the rest of the trick. Resul Pookutty's work is evident when you can hear the minute motor sounds when the Robot moves its parts.

If you have about 200 crores to splash on a movie, Mr Shankar is your go-to man. It is evident why he is the highest paid director in the country. The man has an amazing imagination and he just raises the bar for himself, but leaps it way above and beyond making you wonder "what will he do next?". Rightfully, he should be christened as the "James Cameron of India". By now if you have not heard about Enthiran's "Baap of all climaxes", its possible that you might have been away on a vacation to Afghanistan. It is evident that he has made suitable changes to suit Rajni's image, but it is also praiseworthy that he has preserved the spirit of the movie intact.

And now to the man himself. Rajni. Most of us might be fortunate enough to be fit to touch our own ass at 61 for morning duties. This man kicks ass at 61. Not only does he jump, dance, fight and multiply with elan, but he also lives the coveted dream of shooting with his index finger. All the Little, Vente,Grande Super stars, Young and Old captains, Ultimate and Penultimate stars can hang their dreams of occupying his coveted throne to rest. You should not be surprised if someday Meena's daughter plays his heroine. Sometimes you wonder if he is really the original "Curious case of Benjamin Button" guy. 

Anyone who has seen Rajni's older movies will agree that Rajni the antagonist could steal the thunder from any hero worth his salt in his heyday. No wonder Shankar chose to give lot of screen time to the "badass" Robot 2.0 and boy, the theatre went beserk. Any other actor might have made it over-the-top, but Rajni owns it so well, that you wish you could see more of him on screen. Not only does he shine as the innocent and badass robot, but also overtakes the usually-reliable Santhanam in comedy scenes. 

All the other douche bags can go ahead and release their whatever they can for Diwali. Who cares? Its arrived in style when Mr 2.0 thundered "Happy Diwali Folks" with Bang. In Style.

Loved this trailer btw :)

3 Idiots

3 Idiots is the latest offering from maverick producer Manmohanji. Initially the film was acted and directed by its lead Suresh Jilmadi, but he was doing a fucked up job with both and producer Manmohan had no choice but to take the reins in his own hands. As usual with any bollywood production, the release date was announced 6 years earlier and the makers are still scrambling to get the film out on date. If you are scratching your head as to what the hell were these guys doing for 6 longs years, then you can join the queue with Head and Shoulders.

The story takes off with our protagonists M S Jill and Lalit Jhanot searching for their long lost friend and mentor Jilmadi. Jilmadi went into hiding after the CWG fiasco and since then they have been looking out in every nook and corner of the country for the bugger. Well, if you think they are doing this out of brotherly love, you might as well believe that Tiger woods was gay. Jill and Jhanot want their share of the common wealth that they looted during commonwealth (kudos to whoever names it aptly).

The movie begins sensationally when their friend-turned-foe Chatur Ramalingam (played astutely by Mani Shankar Jaiyar) tells them that he knows the whereabouts of Jilmadi. Immediately Jhanot runs along and hops in a taxi without wearing his pants. For 6 scenes you see the guy all around in his pink undies and wonder "Why the hell you dont get a pants?". But that is where the Director lends his touch (or the lack of it assuming he isnt gay).

In a later stage of the movie Jhanot quips "The westerners standards of hygiene is different from Indians." You are not surprised that it comes from him as he is seen in his undies (pink ones especially) most of the time, eats without washing his hands and poops in open public places. His performance can be summed up grandly in one small word - SHITTY.

Coming back to the story, Jill and Jhanot take us on a flashback tour where along with Jilmadi, they were officials in our parliament and their merry money-making times where they installed equipments worth few lakhs and billed us for crores. The Director's clever usage of the song "Golmaal hai bhai sab golmaal hai" to show their early days is noteworthy. Jilmadi always remained the top dog of the group as he knew his way of dealing things and doing it his way (read it as screwing it up). The ROCKY type build-up to Jilmadi's Olympic preparation ends in a whimper when the country wins a solitary gold medal from a country of 1 billion in the Olympics. But nevertheless Jilmadi and his pals are showing partying in a pub in the next scene as if they had just conquered North pole.

During the process of the CWG, Jilmadi has a love-hate track with Sheila Dixit. The director makes them sing a duet Zoobi Zoobi amidst potholes and craters making us think that it was shot in moon. But anyone wise enough can understand that the song was shot cheaply on the roads of Mumbai and Delhi with shoddy graphics. Sheila has an emotional role and she does her part well even ignoring Jilmadi at times.

Her emotional dialogue as "The bridge that collapsed was for the public and not the athletes was well received with thunderous applause by the public. That confirmed our long-lasting doubt that the government does not care a rat's ass about the tax paying public's useless life. Come on, in a country of a billion, do they care if few hundreds of us die in a terrorist attack or train accident or bridge collapse?

Jilmadi had showcased his comedy side in a few scenes and they are done well. The moment he thunders in the press conference that "The CWG has world class facilities on par with Beijing" is followed by the collapse of the bridge. It is copied from Johnny English, but nevertheless it makes you wish why these son-of-the-guns were not under that bridge when it collapsed.

Jill is like the Sarathbabu of tamil movies. No matter what he does, he is always shadowed in supporting roles. IN the movie "Election Commission", he played hero TN Seshan's useless sidekick. The scenes where he gets trashed by Manmohan in coarse and profane Punjabi is sure to raise cat whistles in the theater.

And now we come to our main performer Jilmadi. No doubt that this guy is an actor class apart. Oh come on, we are not able to stand one accusation, and this guy is like the bed rock of controversy. Reportedly, Kamal Hassan is receiving his coaching to play a corrupt politician in his next movie "Pakka Thirudan". His emotional outburst that he will not quit even if the games are bombed was so wonderful that the lady next to me blew her nose with my shirt. Betting circles are buzzing with Jilmadi's chances to win an Oscar next year.

Music director Rahman disappoints with his music score. But then you cant blame him, when the script itself is shoddy. The song "All is well" sung in midst of bridge collapses, broken beds, angry outbursts and scandals is an ode to Indian voting public. The only concern is that when this film would be released, almost half the delhi is expected to be flying to HongKong and Singapore and it is expected that the relatives of the officials bribed by quarter and biriyaani might fill up the stands.

I was tempted initially to not give the spoiler-ending of this movie, but then as an Indian voting public you should not be surprised. Chatur takes Jill and Jhanot to a neighborhood country which is hosting some sort of international games event. They find half built stadiums, broken bridges and scandals just few days away from event. It does not require an Einstein to figure out that such an 'efficient' effort can belong to none, but to Jilmadi. They all unite together and steal happily ever after.....

But then, as Jilmadi croons and we the amazing Indian public know......All is indeed well. :)

இப்படி சொன்னா எப்படி?

காற்பந்து முடிஞ்சாலும் அதுக்கு சம்பந்தமே இல்லாத ஹீரோ பாலுடைய புகழ் மங்கவில்லை. ஒரு வேளை பாலை நம்ம ஊருக்கு கடத்திவந்தா அவரை வெச்சு எப்படி பிசினஸ் பண்ணலாம்??


உலக கோப்பைக்கு இன்னும் கொஞ்ச நாள் தான் இருக்கு, ஆனா நம்ம பசங்க விளையாடறதை பார்த்தா உலக கோப்பையை விடுங்க, நமக்கு வெண்கல கிண்ணம் கூட கிடைக்காது போல இருக்கே :(



ஆனாலும் ஒபாமா ரொம்ப பாவம். ஒரு மனுஷனுக்கு சோகம் வரலாம், ஆனா சோகமே வாழ்க்கை மாறினதுக்கு இவருக்கு தான். ஒன்னு மாத்தி ஒன்னு விடாம யாராவது அவரை படுத்தறாங்க.

Craig Ferguson சொன்னது போல்
By this point, the gulf of mexico "spill" not even an 'oil spill' anymore. Spill is a little accident that can easily be cleaned up. Calling this a 'spill' is like calling World War II a 'tiff.'

ஹ்ம்ம்...நம்ம ஊரா இருந்தா ஒரு இட ஒதுக்கீடு அறிவிச்சுட்டு நிம்மதியா இருக்கலாம். (புரியாதவர்கள் WIKILEAKS பற்றி படிக்கவும்)


ஒரு மனஷனுக்கு எப்படி எல்லாம் வாழ்வு வருது பாருங்க. சன் பிச்சர்ஸ் எடுத்த "வெற்றிகரமான" வேட்டைக்காரன், சுறா நடிச்சு கொஞ்ச நாள் படுத்த மாட்டார்னு பாத்தா, ஷங்கர் திடீர்னு "3 Idiots" ரீமேக் பண்றதா சொல்லிட்டார்.

அது எப்படிங்க படம் ரிலீசான அடுத்த நாளே "சூப்பர் ஹிட்" போஸ்டர் ஓட்டறாங்க? ஒரு வேளை அது Templateஆ இருக்குமோ :P. ரீமேக் படம் எடுக்க தான் ஏற்கனவே "ரீமேக்" ராஜா இருக்கார். ஹ்ம்ம்...ஆட்டம் ஜாஸ்தி ஆய்டுமே.

Easier with practice

"I think we are standing on the wrong side of pavement."

I could sense that my wife's blood pressure and patience were exactly at opposite levels.

"Why do you think so?"

"There is a zig-zag yellow line here which is an indication that cabs should not stop and pick any passenger."

"You are telling me after walking for close to 10 minutes on this road?"

"I could tell you if you would LISTEN to me."

This is what happens when I try to do something right. All I wanted was to take her home cosy and comfortable in a taxi and just as Mr. Murphy's law states, you happen to spot a taxi exactly when you don’t want it. And perhaps, we all know that men are poor when it comes to asking for directions.

"Even if we had taken the bus, we would have been half way near our home."

See, that’s the point. Immediately she derives a calculation out of thin air that we would have got the bus on time to our place, we would get seats and also with minimal traffic, we would be halfway down to our house. My argument is - what are the odds? And also, I am not comfortable carrying 2 bag-full of groceries in either hand. That’s when I did the unthinkable error.

I retorted her.

"Why are you making a big deal out of this? Is it my fault that there is no taxi on the road now?"

And she immediately appears stung. Her eyes moisten a little and you can spot the water in her eyes like a mirage in the desert. I sometimes wonder how fast women get their tear glands to respond.

"You should have married Vanitha."

Ah! There we go. And now I get married to Vanitha for not getting a cab. Before you all get driven to nuts, let me explain who on earth is Mrs. Vanitha. She is possibly some secretly inherited descendent of Hitler. Or maybe Idi Amin. She is possibly one of the few women on earth whom you would not even want your most secret adversary to get married to.

My wife, the quintessential gossiper she is (aren’t we all?), likes to narrate me Mrs. Vanitha's strict order in the house where no extra oil or butter is allowed to be consumed or when children have to ask permission for everything. I wonder if her children religiously shout "Hail Fuhrer" before going to bed.

You can imagine the predicament of her husband. I once met the couple when we were doing our weekend family shopping. Her husband was a small man with head in the shape of an Easter egg. He had a small mustache and a sorry looking face like a Lehman Brother's shareholder or an Indian voter.

So, which brings to realize why women always compare with the worst lot available? Have you ever heard any women say, "You should have married Tammana or Shriya."? Absolutely not! Its always a Mrs. Vanitha or your next door neighbour who infact looks and behaves closer to the witch described in Harry Potter.

Have you heard any man complain or compare on the same lines? Imagine how it would be if Bill Clinton were to fight with Hillary - "You should have married Bush. Your life would have been filled with correcting grammatical and pronunciation mistakes." That’s least likely possible. Why? Because men are egoistic and would not let their muse out of their control even in words. But yeah, that does not rule out the possibility of the same guy doing a Tiger Woods routine.

"Look, just calm down. I will call the speed taxi number ok?" I was trying my best to do damage control.

"And who will pay the extra charge? If you had been with Lalitha who orders a taxi every time she goes out, you would have understood, how better off you are."

I had to stop this nonsense before she planned grandkids for me and some Ms. Lalitha. And just as I wondered, an empty taxi stopped nearby. I was waving madly like the guard did when Titanic hit iceberg. I think he stopped possibly to check if I was having seizure than to pick me up.

We travelled throughout the ride without a word uttered between us. If the taxi driver was a bachelor, he was probably planning to remain one for the rest of his life, after watching our marital spark. We watched some mindless comedy on TV without bothering to laugh much for next hour or so. It was a question of who would break the ice.

Just as we looked at each other, we said in unison "I am sorry."

It’s probably little hard. It’s probably very easy.

It comes - easier with practice.